approaches his window. “Can you take me to Islington and Dundas West, please?” she asks, pulling as many curls away from her face as she can.
“Hop in,” Andrew says, starting the engine.
As the woman climbs into the back of the taxi, he sets the meter. The rush-hour traffic is beginning to ease in the downtown core but is still heavy enough to require him to take some creative alternative routes. Most cabbies gladly sit in traffic even though if they tried they could easily think of less-congested avenues to save their customers time and money. But Andrew would hate the nagging guilt that would eat away at him if he knew of a quicker way and didn’t use it. So he takes several smaller streets in the core until he hits Bloor Street West.
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